


the world at your tongue

by bloomsoftly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Femslash, Gift Fic, Odin's A+ Parenting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/pseuds/bloomsoftly
Summary: Darcy does Jane a favor, gets drunk, and maybe falls a little in love in the process.





	the world at your tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wino/gifts).



> For the delightful Wino, the best muse a girl could ask for. ❤ ❤

Darcy has always been powerless against Jane’s puppy eyes, and today is no exception. She knows it’s no coincidence that Jane waits until she’s trapped in a bridesmaid fitting to ask her the favor, and part of her wants to say no out of spite.  
  
Jane can obviously see the compulsion in her face, because she juts in quickly, whispering furiously, “Please, Darce. I’ll owe you a million, but please don’t make me go alone with them.” Her eyes dart to the door of the fitting room, as if her future mother-in-law might pop out of nowhere.  
  
Frantically, she hisses, “Please! You know what Thor’s dad said about me. If I’m stuck with his family alone with limitless alcohol and no escape, you might have to bail me out for murder.”  
  
Darcy rolls her eyes. “One, limitless alcohol is still better than getting stuck with them while sober. And two, at least that way maybe I’d get out of maid of honor duty. I’m not seeing a problem, here.” Jane throws a wadded up ball of tulle at her for that and Darcy, trapped on a pedestal and covered in satin, is too slow to dodge. It smacks her square in the face. Seeing that Jane has switched from joking to overwhelmed, eyes swelling with tears, Darcy relents. She carefully hops down from the platform and shuffles over to Jane, swishing obnoxiously as she goes.  
  
Gathering her into her arms, Darcy soothes, “I’m sorry for teasing, Janie. Of course I’ll go to the damn wine tasting with you. Someone’s gotta keep Odin in line.” Petting Jane’s hair, she grumbles, “Damn old rich men who think they can say anything they want.”  
  
Jane snorts wetly and pushes away, wiping her nose. She gives Darcy a mock glare, but they both know she’s in complete agreement with the statement. Still, Darcy doesn’t want to spend their only alone time for the day—Frigga really will be back any minute—talking about Thor’s terrible father, so she diverts the subject. Nudging Jane’s shoulder affectionately, she teases, “You better not have gotten any snot on this dress or the attendant might actually kill me. That woman is way too into weddings.”  
  
Jane eyes the gown frantically for a moment, looking for a wet spot, before she catches on to the joke. She reaches forward to smack Darcy’s arm in retaliation, but is interrupted by the sound of Frigga’s footsteps echoing down the narrow hallway to their changing room. Like lightning, Darcy jumps back on the platform (miraculously not ripping the ridiculous dress) and Jane pretends to be deeply conflicted about whether she likes this style compared to the previous sixteen Darcy already tried on. Despite their impressive acting skills, Frigga isn’t buying it.  
  
After a perfunctory knock on the door, she pokes her head inside to check how they’re doing. Based on the sparkle in her eye, Frigga knows exactly what Jane and Darcy are up to, and she diplomatically offers, “Well, dear, we still have a ways until the wedding. Perhaps we can set aside the bridesmaid dress shopping for another day?”  
  
Jane agrees with alacrity, and Darcy is out of the dress in half the time it took to get the damn thing on. Neither of them protest when Frigga suggests they get mimosas, either. Darcy's policy whenever she's around Jane’s future in-laws is to consume as much alcohol as possible, because it tends to make things easier.  
  
Like the time at Jane and Thor’s engagement dinner when Loki sabotaged the whole thing by loudly confronting his father about the ‘shady’ circumstances of his adoption. To be blunt, Darcy would probably remember the whole sordid tale a bit better if she hadn't drunk an entire bottle of wine in a futile attempt to drown out the awkwardness.  
  
She'd feel guilty about drinking so much, except she caught sight of Jane and Thor doing the same thing. They'd just saluted each other across the table and settled back to watch the fur fly. It was a memorable evening, but probably not in the way Jane or Thor had hoped.  
  
That night was still second to the night that Jane and Thor introduced their families to each other, which basically means that it was the night Thor’s parents and brother met Darcy. (Erik was out of town for a research conference, and he and Darcy are the only ones Jane’s got.) Things fell apart pretty much around the time that Odin began insulting Jane’s chosen family—complaining that he rearranged meetings with several important diplomats just to meet one measly friend— but the evening really became an unmitigated disaster when the asshole obliquely referred to Jane as a goat.  
  
Darcy was ready to launch herself over the table at him and scratch his eyes out, or worse, but Jane held her back; for such a small woman, she has an extremely firm grip. It was a ridiculous scene: Thor berating his father for insulting his fiance, Frigga eyeing  Jane in concern, and Loki slouching against the table, grinning with unholy glee. Meanwhile, Jane maintained a vise-like hold on Darcy’s elbow and frantically gestured at a waiter to bring another couple bottles of wine.  
  
And that’s the story of how Darcy and Jane discovered that socializing with Odin requires at least two bottles of wine.  
  
In all the times Darcy’s met her, Frigga has always seemed very kind and welcoming, so there’s no indication that she would necessarily be the same as her husband in that regard. And Darcy knows better than to judge a person by their family, but still—it’s probably better that there’s alcohol involved, for everyone’s sake. And as far as precautionary measures go, mimosas are some of the least painful. Drinks with the mother-in-law is not even close to the biggest sacrifice Darcy’s made for Jane, but this wine tasting might be another story.

 

* * *

  
“Thor, I have a very serious question for you.”  
  
In anticipation of Thor’s reply, Jane mutes Jane mutes the TV (it’s on some random show that none of them are really watching anyway). In response, Thor looks up from where he’s been combing his fingers through Jane’s hair. Shifting slightly on the couch, he pulls Jane more firmly into his side and turns to face Darcy.  
  
“Yes, Darcy?”  
  
She pauses for dramatic effect, causing Jane to roll her eyes. They’ve been friends long enough that they can practically finish each other’s sentences, which means Jane immediately recognizes when Darcy is about to say something absurd. But hey, it’s her apartment, she can do what she wants. “Are you sure you aren’t the adopted one in the family? I mean, I know it’s supposed to be Loki, but he fits right in with your dad’s crazy.”  
  
Darcy has always loved Thor’s laugh; it rolls from his body like thunder, unstoppable and warm. The whole couch shakes with it now, deep and loud and hearty. Thor laughs and laughs until tears trickle out the corner of his eyes and trail into his beard. Jane and Darcy laugh with him, helpless in the face of his unabashed amusement.  
  
Eventually, Thor wipes his tears away with a finger and says, “I can see why you would ask, as my father and my brother are of similar temperaments.” Darcy and Jane both snort; trust Thor to  find a diplomatic way to say his family members are batshit crazy. “I take more after my mother, I think. She can be ‘crazy’ in her own ways, but in a manner more palatable than that of my father or brother.” Eyeing his fiance in concern, Thor asks Jane, “She was good to you when you went shopping, was she not? I was under the impression it went well.”  
  
Thinking back on some of the scandalous stories a tipsy Frigga told them over mimosas, Darcy grins behind her hand and acknowledges, “Yeah, I can see that, big guy. She does remind me of you a little bit.”  
  
At the same time, Jane rushes to reassure, “No, she was great! It was a lovely morning all around.”  
  
Assuaged, Thor grins and leans back against the arm of the couch. A frown crosses his face, and he queries, “May I ask, if my mother caused no offense during your outing, what prompted your question?”  
  
Darcy groans and flops her head back against the couch. Rolling her eyes, Jane guesses, “Is this about the wine tasting?”  
  
Flinging an arm across her face, Darcy moans, “Why did I agree to do that with you again?”  
  
Unsympathetic, Jane crosses her arms and replies, “Because you’re my best friend and my maid of honor and you love me.”  
  
Thor’s a little nicer, and he reaches around Jane to pat Darcy on the arm. “Cheer up, Darcy. I’m sure it’ll be quite fun.”

 

* * *

  
  
The wine tasting is not particularly fun, surprising absolutely no one. Darcy has managed to get drunk, though, much to Jane’s jealousy.  
  
It takes approximately an hour and a half for Darcy to lose all patience with Odin’s veiled disparagement of their _commoners_ ’ palates (seriously, does that man think he lives in the Middle Ages?), and in that time she has managed to get herself properly sloshed. As she allows herself to get lost in the crowd, Darcy feels a momentary twinge of guilt for abandoning Jane. Even as she drifts away, though, she can hear Odin’s booming insults and the guilt fades quickly. Jane has Thor—she’ll be fine.  
  
Darcy’s not really sure where she’s headed—the opposite direction of Odin’s voice is about as far as she’s gotten planning-wise—so she stops to gather herself near one corner of the room. She’s in the midst of looking for a place that will spare her any potential run-ins with Thor’s family when a flash of color catches her eye from across the room. She glances over and spots the most gorgeous woman she’s seen in…well, a really long time.  
  
The woman’s face is partially obscured by her sleek red hair, but then she turns in Darcy’s direction and their eyes meet. Darcy’s first coherent thought, if you can call it that, is hot damn. The redhead’s face is as striking as the rest of her, but there’s a little pull at one side of her mouth like she’s laughing at a joke the rest of the room isn’t privy to.  
  
The woman lifts an eyebrow, and Darcy knows she’s been caught staring. In response, Darcy shrugs and offers a grin. _You caught me_. The redhead smirks and gives Darcy a slow, head-to-toe perusal. Darcy swears she can feel the heat of her gaze all the way across the room, and by the time the woman’s eyes make contact with hers again Darcy’s face is completely flushed.  
  
Darcy sways in her high heels, just slightly, not sure if her strongest impulse is to run away and hide from the woman’s scrutiny or to beg her to do it again. Apparently the woman would prefer the latter, because she takes a single step in Darcy’s direction, eyes intent on her face—and is waylaid by what looks to be an acquaintance of hers.  
  
Their eye contact is cut off, and a number of other people also walk between them, until Darcy can’t see the woman or her friend at all. Shrugging off a slight sense of disappointment, Darcy realizes that she’s been in one place for too long and resumes her wandering throughout the room.  
  
Not twenty minutes later, Darcy realizes her mistake in sticking to less populated areas of the room when she’s cornered by a smarmy pathetic excuse for a man. He has clearly decided that she is going to be his one night stand, and doesn’t even bother to ask her name before he starts hitting on her.  
  
Great.  
  
Reaching the end of her limited patience, Darcy cuts him off mid-sentence.  
  
“Oh, sorry, I’m into girls.” Darcy’s expression and flat tone indicate she’s not sorry at all, despite her words. There’s only so much effort she can put into protecting this guy’s feelings, and she’s already running out of reasons to care. Especially since the douchebag ignores all of her nonverbal cues and sidles closer.  
  
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet, honey.” He leers at her drunkenly, in what he no doubt thinks is an attractive manner. In reality, it’s gross and invasive.  
  
Darcy wishes Jane hadn’t insisted that she leave her taser at home, though where she would have hidden it in this dress or this clutch she has no idea. She’s faced with two options: either she punches the guy in the face and risks breaking a finger (and drawing the wrath of Odin, which would be a nuisance), or she uses the classic fake-out technique.  
  
She’ll spare Jane the misery of an angry Odin this time.  
  
Pulling her mouth into a wide, insincere grin, Darcy fakes a sympathetic expression. Shrugging, she says, “No, really. Actually, my girlfriend will be here any second and she really hates having to deal with guys who don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’ so you should probably go.” Darcy looks at the creep pointedly, but of course he doesn’t get the message. He’d have to be looking at her face for that.  
  
Eyes firmly on her chest, he takes a step even closer. She flinches, growing alarmed. “Listen, man—”  
  
“You can call me Brock, baby. What d’ya say we take this party somewhere a little quieter?” He reaches a hand for her arm, but she pivots out of his reach at the last second and steps back.  
  
Darcy’s not sure what to do next, short of causing a scene. Just before the pushy asshole is able to box her in to a corner, Darcy spies the gorgeous woman from earlier standing over by the Malbec (which Darcy had sampled generously not too long ago). As a last-ditch effort, she pushes past Brock and moves toward her, calling out as she goes.  
  
“Darling, there you are!” Darcy unsteadily weaves her way toward the stunning redhead, hoping she isn’t about to get punched in the face. She slides in close next to the woman, anxiety shining in her eyes. “I didn’t see you walk in, or I would have come over immediately.”  
  
With a quick glance from Darcy to the man pursuing her, the woman’s face lights with understanding. Staring right at Brock, the redhead presses against Darcy’s side and gives her a silky kiss on the cheek. Heat warms Darcy’s cheeks at the contact, and she wobbles slightly.  
  
The redhead presses her face to Darcy’s hair and slides one arm around Darcy’s waist, sparking a trail of fire where her fingertips brush against Darcy’s skin. Flushing, Darcy briefly gives mental thanks to Jane for convincing her to wear a backless dress.  
  
Softly, the redhead murmurs into her ear, “My name is Natasha.” The name fits her, Darcy thinks. Poised and graceful and somehow utterly deadly.  
  
Louder, Natasha apologizes, “I’m sorry, Солнышко. I came in a little late and thought I might find you by the Malbec.” With a warm look, she adds, “I know how much you love it.” There’s no way she could know that her statement is actually true, but Darcy gets the weird sense that she isn’t bluffing.  
  
Darcy is caught up in the heat of Natasha’ s gaze and the soft brush of her fingertips against Darcy’s waist—the heat of her hand scorches through the thin lace of her dress, and Darcy feels as though she’s been branded. She’s so caught up in trying not to melt into a puddle of lace and lust on the floor that she forgets all about the creep she was trying to escape—until he claps a meaty hand on her shoulder.  
  
Slurring, he demands, “Where do you think you’re going? We aren’t done—”  
  
In a flash, Natasha steps between them in such a way that breaks his hold and has him stumbling back. Glaring fiercely at the drunk man, she hisses, “Just what do you think you’re doing?” The soft menace of her tone is terrifying, and something must register in the man’s measly little hindbrain because he takes another step back and holds his hands up in placation.  
  
“Sorry, Red, didn’t know she was yours.”  
  
Bristling, Darcy opens her mouth to retort but Natasha beats her to the punch. “She’s not a doll, jackass—she doesn’t belong to anyone.” Her glare intensifies, and she steps closer to him, threatening, “Now get the hell out of here before you say something you’ll really regret.”  
  
Darcy almost expects them to come to blows (the guy pursued her doggedly halfway across the room, after all), so she places a gentle hand on Natasha’s upper back. As sexy as it would be to see Natasha defend her honor—and she’s surprised to find that the thought really does turn her on—Darcy is aware that Jane and her future in-laws are still roaming somewhere in the winery. She really doesn’t want to cause a scene, because of course either Loki or Odin would find out and pick a fight with her best friend over it.  
  
Darcy gears up to break the standoff somehow, but in the end she doesn’t even have to. After a long moment, Brock inclines his head in defeat and turns to leave without further comment, tail tucked firmly between his legs. She stares at his profile over Natasha’s red curls, dumbstruck by this turn of events. Once he’s completely out of sight, Natasha’s shoulders relax slightly and she turns back to Darcy.  
  
They stare at each other awkwardly for a second. Darcy’s trying to think of a way to say _thank you_ and _that was so attractive_ but also ask _are you single? interested? come home with me?_ without sounding like a total creep.  
  
She must linger a little too long in hesitation, because Natasha shrugs one shoulder and moves to slide past her back toward the wine. With a quirk to the side of her mouth, Natasha notes, “He should leave you alone now. Those bullies are all the same.”  
  
In reflex, Darcy reaches out to catch Natasha as she goes by. She pulls back as soon as she realizes what she's done, but it’s too late; her fingers skim lightly across Natasha’s upper arm, and they both shudder. The other woman turns her head toward Darcy, expectant. Still not knowing what to say, Darcy stutters, “That was so…amazing.” Natasha laughs, but doesn’t walk past her. Hunting for something else, anything to keep her attention, Darcy adds, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that, or…well, if you’re not into women—”  
  
Natasha snorts at that, turning to fully face her. “I wasn’t just admiring your _dress_ earlier, you know.”  
  
A thrill runs up Darcy’s spine. “I know—I mean, I hoped—okay, why is talking so difficult? Wanna—” She stops, self-conscious, knowing that the wine has made her tongue thick and clumsy.  
  
“Get a drink?” Natasha gestures to the wine around them and chuckles, warm and throaty. “Yeah, I do. But first, can I have your name? I’ve been wanting to find out for hours.”  
  
_Hours?_ Darcy blushes. She’s no stranger to flirtation, but this woman is a master. “Darcy. My name is Darcy.” Gathering herself, she winks at the redhead. “Can I buy you a drink?”  
  
That earns her a full-blown grin, and Natasha purrs, “Nothing would please me better, Солнышко. Lead the way.”  
  
All Darcy wants is to escape the overcrowded room and actually get to know her redheaded savior. So, with a silent apology to Jane she steals a newly-opened bottle of wine from one of the tables (much to her companion’s amusement) and leads Natasha out to a side balcony. It isn’t until they’ve propped themselves up on a balustrade looking out over the vineyard’s hills, wine bottle nestled between them, that Darcy thinks to ask, “What does that word mean? You’ve said it twice now.” Snagging the wine, she takes a sip straight from the bottle. Somehow she manages not to spill red wine down her chest, which quite frankly is a bit of a miracle. She should have grabbed some wine glasses when she stole the bottle, but it’s too late now.  
  
“Солнышко is a Russian endearment. It means sunshine.” When Darcy offers her the wine bottle, Natasha takes a long swallow. Even drinking straight from the bottle, she’s the epitome of class and grace. Darcy’s inebriated brain fixates on the glide of her throat as she swallows and the path of her tongue as she licks her lips to catch any stray drops of wine. Shaking herself mentally, Darcy drags her eyes back up to Natasha’s. The redhead smirks at her knowingly.  
  
Darcy quirks an eyebrow, unashamed. “Russian, huh?” Natasha passes the bottle back to her and nods, explaining that she spent some time living in Russia for a job. Darcy props the bottle in her lap but doesn’t take a drink. She’s had enough for one night, and she wants to remember every single detail of this evening.  
  
Through more prompting, Darcy finds out that Natasha lives relatively close, just like her. She used to be a government agent, but now owns a self-defense fitness studio in the city. Overall, she says it's a much more relaxed career and she loves it.  
  
In turn, Darcy tells Natasha about her work as an assistant to a world-renowned astrophysicist, and all the shady situations Jane’s research has gotten her into. Then she finds herself talking about Jane’s impending marriage to Thor and her duties as maid of honor. Once she gets started, she can't help but rant that her best friend is about to acquire one of the most horrifying father-in-laws on the planet, and that Darcy is only at the wine tasting in the first place because Jane couldn’t stand to be around him with Thor as her only support.  
  
Natasha laughs at that, and reveals that she too was conned into coming to the wine tasting. Her best friend and former partner, Clint, was invited to the winery along with his wife and several other couples and guilted Natasha into coming along with the group. “His argument was that we don’t see each other often enough now that we no longer work together,” Natasha grumbles, “but I still ended up being the ninth wheel.”  
  
Darcy laughs exuberantly, throwing her head back and drawing the attention of another couple who wandered out onto the balcony. Still smiling, she notes, “What a pair we are! So indignant that our friends forced us to come to an expensive winery where we get free drinks and a magnificent view.” She gestures at the scenery to punctuate her statement.  
  
“I guess you have a point,” Natasha replies, admiring the rolling hills in the distance. Turning her head back to smile softly at Darcy, she confides, “I’ll never live this down if I tell him, but I’m glad I came.”  
  
 As Natasha speaks, Darcy’s eyes catch the sight of their lipstick mixing together on the lip of the bottle; it’s a striking blend of vibrant red and purple, and she’s transfixed. Darcy absently wonders if she’ll get the chance to see that exact shade on her own mouth. She hopes so.  
  
They talk for what feels like hours, long after the sun has gone down and torches have been lit around them. Darcy’s phone goes off several times but she ignores it, trying to muster the courage to ask Natasha to the wedding. It's a bold move, but one that could pay off extremely well.  
  
When her phone buzzes for at least the tenth time, Darcy sighs. “Sorry,” she mutters, reaching into her clutch to read the latest message. It’s from Jane, of course.  
  
_Darcy, are you okay? Where are you? We’re ready to leave and I might murder Odin and/or Loki if we don’t head out soon._  
  
Darcy blows her bangs away from her face in a burst of pure frustration. It figures that she'd meet someone like Natasha and then have to leave. But Jane needs her, so she turns to Natasha with regret.  
  
Natasha already knows what she's going to say. “Time to leave?”  
  
“Unfortunately. If I don’t go, the bride might murder either her future father-in-law or her future brother-in-law, or both. And then I’d have to help her hide the bodies, and we’d probably both end up in jail for life.”  
  
They gingerly climb down from their perch, both a little less steady on their feet. For a moment they hover awkwardly, neither one knowing how to proceed. Drawing in a fortifying breath, Darcy takes the plunge. “If—well, if you’re not busy in a couple of months, do you want to be my date to Jane’s wedding?”  
  
Natasha blinks, surprised. “I—” she falters, glancing to the side, and Darcy’s courage fails.  
  
“You know what? Don’t worry about it.” She forces a grin and says goodbye. “Thank you for the company, and for making this wine tasting a lot more fun than it would have been otherwise.” Staggering backward, she offers a half-wave and pivots, walking quickly away. It’s only a few seconds until she’s back in the warmth of the room, and she lets herself get lost in the crowd of people. Nursing her disappointment, Darcy heads for the entrance. Jane is probably worried by now, and Odin will have a fit if they have to wait too long.  
  
After a couple of wrong turns, Darcy finds the entryway and steps back out into the night. As expected, there’s Jane and the rest of the gang. “Where have you been?” she whispers furiously, drawing Darcy away from the group.  
  
Slightly guilty in the face of Jane’s concern, Darcy apologizes profusely. “Jane, I’m so sorry. I was out on the balcony and lost track of time.” Glancing at Odin’s stern face, she wonders, “Did Odin give you a lot of trouble?”  
  
“Not too bad, actually. He—” Jane cuts herself off in mid-sentence, distracted by something over Darcy’s shoulder.  
  
“Jane? What—?” Darcy turns, trying to figure out what has captured her best friend’s attention.  
  
It’s Natasha, striding toward her with determination. Darcy turns all the way around, eyes widening, but Natasha doesn’t stop. Instead, she slides one hand to the back of Darcy’s head, the other around her waist, bringing her close. As she moves, Darcy’s eyes close and her arms come up around Natasha on reflex, and their mouths meet somewhere in the middle. It’s a little too rough, at first—teeth clacking together—and they pull apart slightly.  
  
Darcy tilts her head and slides her hand into Natasha’s silky hair and just like that it’s perfect. Their lips slide against each other in a sensual caress for long moments, and lightning races down Darcy’s spine. Tightening the arm around her waist, Natasha licks into Darcy’s mouth heatedly. Darcy stumbles closer and tightens the hand she has in Natasha’s hair, moaning into the kiss and nipping at Natasha’s mouth in return.  
  
Mindful that they are in a public space and have likely gathered quite the audience, Darcy somehow restrains herself from hiking a leg over Natasha’s hip. Natasha must have a similar thought, because she slowly gentles the kiss and extricates her hand from Darcy’s hair.  
  
As she pulls away, Natasha’s pupils are blown wide with wine and wonder. She bites her lip and whispers, huskily, “You took me by surprise.” Stroking Darcy’s cheek with her thumb, she leans forward to press another light kiss to Darcy’s mouth and murmurs, “Also, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”  
  
Darcy can see by the look on her face that surprises don’t come Natasha’s way very often. Determined to give her another one, she leans in for another kiss. This one is gentle, soft, and wet. They take their time, lips clinging as they explore each other slowly. Natasha sinks into her, one hand sliding along Darcy’s neck in a soft caress. One of Darcy’s hands slides up Natasha’s back in return, coming to rest between her shoulder blades. This kiss is perfect in an entirely different way from the first, and Darcy pulls back reluctantly. Breathing unevenly, she jokes, “Stick with me and you might get more of those.”  
  
Natasha chuckles. “Surprises? Or kisses?”  
  
“Both.” It’s a promise.  
  
Holding out a torn piece of paper for Darcy to take, Natasha makes a promise of her own . “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And by the way, I would love to be your date to the wedding.” Her gaze drops to Darcy’s mouth, then to the crowd behind her, and she visibly restrains herself from leaning in for another kiss. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’re out of time tonight. Text me?”  
  
She takes a step back, then another, and then she’s lost in the crowd.  
  
Darcy turns, dazed, toward Jane and the others. Frigga has already turned Odin and Loki around to coax them into the car, so it’s only Thor and Jane waiting. Jane is tapping one foot, equal parts exasperated and proud. “Damn, Darce. Well, I guess I know now why you weren’t answering my texts.” As Darcy reaches her, Jane nudges her side and adds, “Also, that kiss? So hot. She’s a keeper, you take my word for it.” Even as she rolls her eyes at her best friend, Darcy can’t help the flush that overtakes her cheeks. The kisses were hot. _So_ hot.  
  
Thor doesn’t tease her, just winks and asks, “New friend of yours, Darcy? Anyone I’m likely to see again?”  
  
Darcy can’t help her grin as she answers, “Yeah, big guy. She’ll be at your wedding.” Thor laughs in delight and ushers her to the vehicle.  
  
As they slide into the back of the Escalade limousine (because Odin wouldn’t know the meaning of the word subtlety if it bit him in the ass), Darcy leans toward Jane and whispers, “This was hands down the best sacrifice I’ve ever had to make in the entirety of our friendship. I’ll never doubt you again.” Jane snorts and wipes a way a smudge of lipstick from the corner of Darcy’s mouth, winking at her.  
  
Not wasting any time, Darcy plugs Natasha’s number into her phone. Darcy starts to type out a text, then hesitates briefly, wondering if she should at least pretend to be hard to get and wait until she gets home. Nah, fuck it; she’s all in with this one.  
  
_Want to get an actual drink sometime?_  
  
Her phone chimes in less than a minute.  
  
_Friday, 7 PM? Casual clothing this time._  
  
Darcy grins to herself and looks out the window, ignoring Odin and Loki’s snide remarks about the ‘embarrassing and humiliating scene’ she just made.  
  
Apparently, she has _two_ dates to look forward to. Life is looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 WIP down, 6 to go! (For anyone who reads broken wings, don’t worry. I’m slogging away at the next chapter.)
> 
> If anyone is interested in this little ‘verse, I might be persuaded to write more.
> 
> on tumblr: bloomsoftly


End file.
